This morning, on the way home from the school run, something stopped me in my tracks. A rainbow - a full, bright, unapologetically magical rainbow - stretched across the sky like someone had painted it on just for us.  And of course, I took a picture. ( not a very good one 😊 ) How could I not? It felt like December’s way of saying: “Here you go - a little colour to start your month.” There’s something beautifully strange about waking up on the first morning of December. The world feels the same… and somehow completely different. December doesn’t explode into the room. It arrives quietly - a whisper, a shift in the air, a rainbow you weren’t expecting while turning down a familiar road. School runs still happen. Work still happens. Life is still slightly chaotic (okay, very chaotic some days). But under all of that, December nudges you gently and reminds you: “Look up. Small magic is everywhere.” The warm mug between your hands. Cold air on your face. Fairy lights starting to appea...

Some families wake up to birds singing. We wake up to: three small dogs barking at a leaf stray cats lined up like customers at a buffet and my daughter dramatically announcing, “Mum, there’s a cat on the bin again!” Welcome to our mornings. The funniest part? None of this is planned. We didn’t decide to run a small animal charity. It just… happened. One hungry cat came. Then another. Then suddenly every cat in the neighbourhood told their cousins, and now we have a full morning shift. But somewhere in all this barking, meowing, and “Mum, can I KEEP this one? She’s looking at me with destiny eyes!”… I realised something: These little animals helped us more than we ever expected. After losing my daughter’s dad, our world felt too quiet - even when it was loud. But the animals brought back a weird kind of life. A messy, furry, heart-warming routine that made our mornings feel alive again. Here’s what our chaotic zoo has taught us: 1. Dogs don’t understand sadness - but they understand lo...

 Motherhood • Real Life • Humour Some mums wake up, drink their green smoothie, stretch like a peaceful cat, and glide through the day gracefully. I… am not that mum. The other day, I woke up FULL of determination. Today, I will be organised, I declared. Today I will be the mum who Meal Preps and Folds Things. The mum whose house smells like vanilla candles and not like… whatever mystery smell lives in my fridge. Spoiler: I lasted 17 minutes. Here’s how it went: Step 1: Wake up early. I set my alarm for 6am. I woke up at 7:42am, confused, hair in a shape that looked like a surprised hedgehog. Step 2: Make a healthy breakfast. I attempted porridge. It looked like something out of a horror movie. We had toast. Step 3: Clean the house “properly.” I started strong - washing machine on, dishes soaking, music playing. Then I found a random sock on the staircase, got distracted, and somehow ended up organising a drawer I haven’t opened since 2014. Step 4: Meal prep. Listen… I don’t know w...

Motherhood • Healing • Everyday Magic If you’ve lived through loss, you’ll understand this: healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. It isn’t loud or dramatic. It doesn’t announce itself. It slips in quietly, in tiny, human moments. For a long time after losing my daughter’s dad, our home felt like it had an echo in it — even when we were both right there. I kept wondering if I was doing this “single mum life” right, or if I was just pretending to be strong because I had no other choice. But then came a morning I’ll never forget. Not a big moment. Not a movie moment. Just… breakfast. I was rushing around the kitchen, trying to make toast, tie my hair up, pack her school bag, and hold myself together all at the same time. As usual. Then she looked at me - properly looked at me - and said: “Mummy… you don’t have to hurry. I’m here.” Something inside me softened. Not because she said something magical. But because I realised I wasn’t alone in the way I thought I was. We were healing tog...

If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that you can be strong and exhausted at the same time. I’m Niki - mum to one extraordinary girl who somehow makes every day feel like a story worth telling. After losing her dad, our world felt like it had cracked open. Grief is quiet but heavy, and it doesn’t come with instructions. But something unexpected happened in that messy, upside-down chapter of our lives: Imagination became our survival tool. Not in a big dramatic way - in the tiny, simple moments that stitched us back together. So today, for my very first post on The Playful Attic, I want to share the small things that helped us start healing, smiling, and living again. Nothing fancy. Nothing perfect. Just the little things that made hard days softer. 1. We learned to celebrate tiny wins Getting out of bed? Win. Putting socks on the right feet? Huge win. Not burning the pasta? Honestly - a miracle. When life feels heavy, the smallest victories matter the most. They remind you tha...